Shades of Silver
by dragonfire owns
Summary: Alternate Universe. Harry and co. return for their 7th year. Harry has changed drastically over the summer, enough so that other students take an interest in him. Dark, Powerful Harry. HPxDG. Screw Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: So, this is my first published story in ages. Plot bunnies, I hate you with a burning, fiery passion.

**Disclaimer**: Is this really necessary anymore? Whatever. I do not own Harry Potter and if you recognize a character/place I probably did not create them/it.

**July 31, 1997**

The Silver Prince and the Ice Queen of Slytherin. Sounds like a match made in heaven-or hell, depending on your point of view- doesn't it? Apparently my parents thought so. I couldn't disagree more. The day I let the blonde ponce touch me is the day Potter becomes Voldemort's lover.

Again, not going to happen.

I wonder how my parents had come to the conclusion that us even being in the same room together is a good idea. Things tend to explode rather violently if we are in the same room. Hence the reason the ferret is never in the common room. That's my room, thank you.

Considering that, whoever you are, you were probably a Gryffindor, let me explain. We Slytherins must present a united front to the other houses. We are the only ones willing to stand up for ourselves: it's Slytherin versus the world, after all. Away from the eyes of the other houses, however, is a world of infighting. Betrayals and the like are daily occurrences in our house. Many of us move on to become politicians, so many treat this as a training ground. There is a reason every Minister since 1924 other than Fudgie was a Slytherin.

I rose to the top of the House through a combination of brains, the already mentioned backstabbing and a solid group of friends. But, you might be saying, how do you know that they're your friends? Magical oaths people, magical oaths. In third year, when I began my ascent, we each swore a magical oath to never betray the others.

Malfoy? He decided to take the easy way to the top, using his father's power both within the Ministry and within Voldemort's inner circle to threaten other people. My friends and I were the only ones to not bow to his wishes. He's a disgrace of a Slytherin. He has no brains, no power of his own. I am going to enjoy the day when daddy dies and Malfoy realizes he has no clue about anything.

But I digress. The point is that my parents have decided that they are going to marry me off to Malfoy and I need to find a way to stop them.

**September 1, 1997**

As the muggles say, no dice. My parents have moved into the first stage of negotiations, forcing me to meet with Malfoy twice. The first time, he ran out of the room about two minutes after he walked in, hair on fire. The second time, he didn't even last a minute before the vase behind him exploded and propelled hundreds of ceramic shards into his back. Why my parents are still trying to get us married is beyond me.

I guess I should be thankful. I mean, Malfoy already had a contract with the Parkinson, so that delayed the process to where I could escape some of it at school. The Malfoys had to inform the Parkinsons that they were pulling out of the contract, as well as provide the family with hefty compensation. I heard that Parkinson's father was actually rather pleased. Parkinson herself was bitching and whining and blaming the whole thing on me. As if. I'd had to hex the bitch to get her to listen to me.

Normally, families would not even think about considering backing out of a marriage contract. With all the fees involved–compensation to the other family and fees that Gringotts and the Ministry demanded for the process-the amount of money that the family would lose is well over two hundred thousand galleons, no small amount. With the Malfoy family, I estimated that that would be about a tenth of their estate.

It didn't particularly matter. My family is one of the few families in Britain richer than the Malfoys, the others being the Blacks, the Potters and the Davis'. We also wield considerable force in the Wizengamot, holding four seats, compared to the Malfoy's two. All of this would be transferred to Malfoy when my father died. Idiotic sexist society. Combined with the fact that I am infinitely more beautiful than the pug, the Malfoys were quite eager to accept my parent's offer.

Again, I think my parents had gone crazy. The only reason to marry me to Malfoy that I could see was political. This move would declare them as supporters of the dark families, and by extension, Lord Voldemort. Traditionally, my family was neutral, leaning towards the dark side magic-wise, but never believing in or supporting any of the so called Dark Lords. No longer, apparently.

I sat contemplating this in one of the last compartments on the Hogwarts Express, waiting for the train to leave and my friends to arrive. I always arrived early so I could grab my choice of compartment and avoid the rush. It was also a good opportunity to observe the other students. Summer wrought many changes.

The first student of note to arrive was Longbottom. Yes, Longbottom. The quietest Gryffindor was quite the force in the Wizengamot now that he was of age. And while he hadn't shown much potential in classes, I believe that was more a case of low self-esteem than low magical power. He had gone through a late growth spurt over the summer and was now as tall as his towering grandmother and was quite muscular. He sure looked more confident, so maybe he would do better in class this year.

The next notable student was Malfoy. Blegh. He looked much the same as ever, except for the rather depressed look on his face. Oh, right. His Death Eater father had been locked up again soon after my second "meeting" with Malfoy. Unfortunately, this would have no effect on the negotiations. It would, however, have an effect on his standing in the house, because he gained it through his father's influence.

A long period passed between Malfoy and the next students that I would pay attention too. They were Weasley and Granger. Oddly enough, the Gryffindor Golden Boy did not appear to be with them. They kept glancing around the platform, probably looking around for Potter, and they stayed close to the entrance to the platform. Their faces fell with each passing minute and I came to the assumption that the Golden Trio had had a bit of a falling out.

Susan Bones arrived with her Aunt, the one and only Amelia Bones. Like Longbottom, she had inherited several seats in the Wizengamot over the summer. So had Terry Boot, who arrived soon after.

And then, five minutes before the train was scheduled to leave, Potter arrived. He had changed drastically. He had undergone quite the growth spurt and had filled out, making him look more like an athlete than the malnourished midget he was before. His hair had been tamed slightly so that the wildness looked intentional rather than accidental and he had gotten rid of those horrendous glasses of his, unleashing those gorgeous emerald eyes. What? They are.

Anyways.

Frankly, he finally looked the part of the Lord he was. Well, would have if it weren't for the clothes he was wearing. He had lost the worn out, baggy clothes of previous years and instead wore a muggle t-shirt, a leather jacket, dark blue jeans and muggle skate shoes. And, let me say, he looked good.

What, a girl can't check guys out once in a while? Jeez.

As soon as he arrived, he was accosted by Weasley and Granger. He spoke a few words to them, harsh ones by the looks of it, then strode past them towards the train. The looks on the pair's faces were priceless. They rushed after him and the Weasel grabbed his shoulder. Potter whirled, but didn't say anything. The pair just seemed to shrink and stood still as he turned and headed towards the train. I got a glimpse of the look on his face as he turned back to the train and I saw what made Weasley and Granger stop. His eyes were flashing dangerously, hinting at barely restrained power and his lips were lifted in an animalistic snarl. However, he quickly schooled his features and boarded the train.

About a minute later, my friends entered the platform, almost late, as usual. They were never in any real hurry to get anywhere, walking calmly through the chaos of everyone else on the platform panicking. Before I could watch them board the train, however, I heard the compartment door slide open. Turning, I saw the ferrety face of Malfoy and the hulking figures of his boyfriends.

"Malfoy," I said coldly, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting with my betrothed," he replied, "What does it look like?"

He moved to sit down next to me, but I pulled my wand out and pointed it at him.

"Not going to happen. Sorry," I said. He looked at my wand fearfully, and rightly so.

"We are going to be married, you know," he said. "You might as well get used to it."

"Not if I can help it," I said. "Get out."

"You know, I don't think I-" His sentence was cut off by the jet of light that hit him, turning him into the infamous bouncing ferret. I turned my wand on Dumb and Dumber, but realized I had overestimated the size of the compartment. As soon as I had cursed Malfoy, Crabbe had shuffled the two steps from the door to my seat. He backhanded me harshly, sending my head crashing into the wall behind me. The impact had me seeing stars and I was sure I now had a concussion. It also released Malfoy from his true form, and he scrambled to his feet, wand out. With a flick of his wrist, ropes sprung around my wrists, tying them to the bench.

"You know, I wasn't going to do this," he said, "But I might as well now that you've cursed me."

He began unbuckling his pants and I realized what he was planning to do. I began thrashing around, but my ankles were tied to the bench much like my wrists, so I did little more than flop pathetically. I tried screaming, but I realized he had also put up a silencing ward.

Fuck.

Suddenly, I heard two large thumps and Malfoy looked up fearfully. He was pulled off of me by someone and I felt the ropes around my wrists and ankles disappear. Looking up, I saw that my savior was none other than Potter. He had the same look on his face that I saw earlier, all animalistic fury and raw power. He was pointing a muggle gun at Malfoy, while Crabbe and Goyle lay unconscious at his feet. Malfoy looked like he was about to shit his partially unbuckled pants, although I doubt he knew what a gun was.

"Do you know what this is, Ferret?"

Malfoy shook his head fearfully.

"It's a gun," Potter said, "Muggle invention. Makes it easier to kill people. The muggles are rather good at that. Would you like a demonstration?"

Malfoy shook his head fearfully.

"Of course you wouldn't. Well, I think I'll give you one anyways. You. Are. Scum. I am only letting you off this easy once. Next time you die."

Malfoy whitened and then there was an extremely loud crack. Rubbing my abused head, I looked over at the ferret. He was clutching his right shoulder where Potter had shot him, blood seeping in between his fingers. He had fainted from the shock.

Potter waved his hand and a piece of paper appeared. He stuck the paper to Malfoys forehead and I saw that it read "rapist." Another wave of his hand and Malfoy, along with Crabbe and Goyle, disappeared.

"Where'd you send them?" I asked.

"Hogwarts," he said. "You alright there Greengrass?"

"Shaken," I said, "But otherwise fine."

He nodded. "Your lip's bleeding," he observed.

I rubbed a hand over my mouth. Indeed it was. I was about to respond when suddenly, Potter stepped forward and crushed his lips to mine.

Well, this was definitely an unexpected turn of events. Not entirely unwelcome even though Potter was the Gryffindor Golden Boy. He **had** become rather good looking. Quite a good kisser as well.

I don't know how long we snogged, but we were eventually interrupted by the compartment door sliding open and several shocked gasps. We broke apart and I blushed slightly as I realized where our hands were. I had one hand on the back of his head and the other on the small of his back while Potter, teenage boy that he is, had both of his hands on my ass.

"Moving quite fast aren't we, Potter?" I muttered. It was true. We had spoken maybe twice before today.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied with a smirk, snaking an arm around my waist as we turned to face the newcomers.

Gods above, why did my friends choose **this** moment to arrive?

"Potter, what do you think you're doing?" That was Tracey. She marched up to Potter and jabbed him in the chest with a finger. It was quite funny, really. Tracey, all five foot four of her, threatening the six foot hunk of lean, sexy muscle… I mean, Potter.

Potter just grinned that crooked grin of his and said, "Unless I'm mistaken, I was kissing this beautiful young lady here. Problem, Davis?"

"I'd say so, yes," replied Tracey. "Get your hands off of Daphne!"

Potter's grin turned into a smirk and he pulled me closer to him. I decided to save him before Tracey decided to pull her wand on him. Actually, I was probably saving her. Who knows what Potter was capable of anymore. I wrapped an arm around him and said, "Who says I want him to?"

That would earn me a shouting match later. Whatever. Well worth it if it meant no one killed each other.

Tracey turned her eyes on me and opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Blaise spoke up.

"Any chance of getting inside the compartment anytime soon?" he asked. "We don't need anyone else to see you two."

Politically minded bastard. Well, he was probably right. Potter seemed to realize his point as well, as he sat down and pulled me into the seat next to him. Tracey sat down across from us and Blaise and Sophia entered the compartment.

As soon as Sophia slid the door closed, Tracey began casting several privacy charms. When she was done, Potter added a few with a wave of his hand. That's something I need to remember to ask him about. Wandless magic is a very rare skill and it is practically unheard of to have the amount of control that Potter apparently had.

"Something wrong with your eyes Potter?" Sophia asked after she sat down.

I looked over at him. His eyes were… pulsing would be the word for it, I guess. They would switch back and forth between normal and practically glowing every few seconds. It was a bit mesmerizing. I spent more time staring at them than I'm comfortable admitting.

"I'm a bit… hyped up, you could say," he said. I wondered if his face had frozen into that crooked grin.

"Hmmmm," mumbled Sophia. "Daph, is that a cut on your lip?"

"Yup," I said.

"What happened?" she asked. "Potter didn't do anything did he?" She glared at Potter.

"No, no, no, it was Crabbe," I started, then explained the whole thing to them.

I had forgotten to tell them that my parents were planning to marry me off to Malfoy. That shocked my friends, but Potter's eyes turned icy and he wrapped an arm around me.

I wondered what you would call what we had going on between us. It wasn't a relationship, definitely. I guess it was mutual lust. Potter was **hot** and goddamn powerful, if what I've seen so far today is any indication. I don't know what he thought about me- I knew I was no slouch in the looks department- but he was the one who started it.

Suddenly, I had an epiphany. Potter could be my ticket out of the contract with Malfoy. My parents would gain an extreme amount of political power, so they would be happy. I would probably be happy, and if Potter wasn't happy then he could suck it. Metaphorically of course.

"What's up Daph?" asked Tracey. "You look like you've just seen Merlin."

"Nothing, Trace, nothing. Just thinking."

She gave me look that said she would make me tell her later. I was going to anyways.

There was a knock on the compartment door. I was inclined to leave it, being extremely comfortable leaning up against Potter. I knew Blaise would at least want to see who it was. However, before he could get up and check, Potter announced, "Its Neville." He raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged. Whether or not Longbottom sat here, I didn't care.

With a wave of his hand the compartment door slid open and Longbottom walked in. He looked at Potter and me, raised an eyebrow and turned to observe Blaise, Tracey and Sophia.

"I didn't know you two were so close," he said, turning back to Potter.

"Shows how much you know, Nev," said Potter. "Sit."

Longbottom sat next to Tracey across from Potter as Potter redid his privacy charms. I saw Tracey look speculatively at Longbottom and I had to stifle a chuckle. Now I had a way to silence her protests about Potter and I.

The rest of the train ride passed in relative companionship. Blaise and Sophia were neutral towards Potter while Tracey held on to her aggressive stance on all things Golden Boy. Bit hypocritical really, as she was flirting with Longbottom. I actually fell asleep leaning on Potter, not that I would ever admit that.

The train stopped and Potter and I reluctantly separated. We would need to keep… it, whatever it was, secret. Potter chatted with Longbottom a few feet in front of my friends and me as we headed towards the carriages. He kept sneaking glances back towards me, when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I was. To his rather nice ass. So I noticed every time he turned, rather disappointedly.

Sadly, we eventually reached the carriages and Potter and Longbottom boarded one. I had hoped that he and I would be able to take the same carriage, but there were other people around. It was probably a good thing too, as who knew what we would be doing if left alone for the ride up to the castle. My friends and I boarded the next carriage and the conversation turned to the ever changing Defense against the Dark Arts professor. Who knew who it would be.

Another year at Hogwarts, another speech by Dumbledore. Forbidden Forest is out of bounds blah blah blah. As usual, I ignored it, instead scanning the staff table. First thing I noticed was that Snape was not present. Interesting. In a way I was glad. Sure, he favored us over every other House, but that only hurt us in the long run. Greasy git.

So, there were two new teachers, one male, one female. They sat next to each other, conversing quietly. They must know each other. They both were quite young, maybe late twenties at the oldest, and very good looking. Also, they both wore muggle clothing which was quite the contrast to the other teachers.

Sophia poked me and I turned my attention back to Dumbledore. He was introducing the new teachers.

"… and we are happy to have Professor Sullivan to replace him."

That was the woman. She nodded once, acknowledging the students, then returned to her conversation with the other new teacher.

"And, replacing Professor Murray as your Defense against the Dark Arts teacher is Professor Reynolds."

Like the woman, the man just nodded in acknowledgement. So. Not much could be learned about either professor at the moment. Damn.

I glanced over my shoulder at the Gryffindor table, looking for Potter. I found him sitting next to Longbottom, Thomas and Finnegan on the opposite end of the table from Weasley and Granger. He was talking with them absentmindedly as he stared at something a few feet below my head… oh. Well, turnabout is fair play, I guess. I didn't particularly mind him staring at me anyways. As long as it wasn't bloody Malfoy.

Scratch that, I didn't want anybody but Potter staring at my ass.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews everyone!

Now, as many of you have pointed out, I left a bit of background out of the story. So here it is:

Voldemort is still alive, but probably won't be making much of an appearance in the first few chapters. When he does though, it'll be big. Also, about the changes that Harry went through: some explanation will be in this chapter, and most of the rest will be in the next.

This is a seventh year fic, and the sixth, and (obviously) seventh books haven't happened. I will go over the major events of Harry's sixth year at some point, probably sooner rather than later. There are other differences, but let's get to those in due course, shall we?

Also, I have Potions being a required course for all years, just like Transfiguration, Charms and Defense against the Dark Arts. I think it's kind of backwards to have what seems like such a necessary class not a requirement.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the recognizable characters/places.

**September 1, 1997**

"I think Potter is a vampire," Sophia announced that night once we were in the safety of our dorm. That's the good thing about Slytherin. After third year, you can choose who you want to be in a room with. Age and sex didn't matter. So my friends and I had a room all to ourselves to sleep in, even though we spent most of our time in the common room.

"Say what?" said Blaise.

"I think Potter is a vampire," repeated Sophia.

"That sounds like something Loony Lovegood would say," I said.

"Think about it," insisted Sophia. "The signs are there. He shows signs of bloodlust after he kisses you and you have a cut on your lip. You act like you've never acted over anyone over the fricking boy-who-lived who you've barely talked to before this. And then there's his proficiency in wandless magic."

"So?" I asked, going over what Sophia had said with a bit of nervousness. "Your 'signs' are bloodlust, sexual allure and the rumored-but never proven- vampiric magic? Two of those I can explain as him being Harry Potter. Who knows what he's capable of? He has survived the Dark Lord more times than anyone other than Dumbledore. So that's your bloodlust and wandless magic explained. The lust… I dunno. Also, how was he walking around in plain daylight yesterday then?"

"True, true," mused Sophia. "Like you said though, who knows what Potter's capable of? He may have found a way around it."

"If there was a way around it, don't you think it would have been found by now?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I still think he's a vampire."

That was Sophia. She could be as stubborn as a female Weasley if she wanted to be.

"Wonderful," I said. "Good for you, really."

I was a bit miffed that Sophia was accusing Potter of being a vampire. I don't think I minded the vampire bit at all- in fact, if the rumors I've heard are true, vampires make the best lovers- but it was still a bit upsetting.

Blaise interrupted before Sophia and I could get into an argument. These occurred rather often between me and at least one of the others. We are all best friends and everything, but originally it was all about gaining power in the House, so we are all quite different.

Sophia was the intellectual one, first in our year, something we always found time to lord over Granger. Blaise was the politically savvy one, a natural born politician. Tracey was the voice of common sense if any of us got too wild in our ideas, which happened quite a lot, as well as being able to read people extremely well. I was chosen to be the "leader" because I was a good balance of all of the above, the best with a wand, and my "ice-queen" persona is a good one for someone in my position to have.

"What are you going to do about Malfoy and the contract?" he asked before Sophia could respond to my comment.

"Oh. Actually, I think Potter might be my solution to that," I said. I quickly explained my plan, which the others all immediately agreed with. This was a rather monumental, as at least one of them tends to disagree on the initial idea at least.

When I was done, Sophia jumped back in with her vampire nonsense.

"If Potter is a vampire like I think, wouldn't that have some sort of effect though? With all the anti-magical creature legislation the Ministry has passed over the past 20 years…" she said, trailing off.

"Look," I said, rubbing my forehead, "I'll ask Potter if he's a vampire next time I see him. Stop mentioning it, **please**."

"Besides," Blaise said, jumping in, "There has been no legislation obstructing marriage to magical creatures. The Wizengamot seems to be under the assumption that no witch or wizard in their right mind would willingly marry a magical creature, so they've only passed legislation concerning the rape of a witch or wizard by one."

And this is why different skill sets are amazing.

"Wonderful," said Tracey, "Now you can go get married to the Gryffindor Golden Boy and live happily ever after."

"I think someone's just jealous because she can't figure out what's going on between her and one Neville Longbottom," I teased.

"N-nothing," spluttered Tracey. "Absolutely nothing, that's what."

"Keep telling yourself that, I'm going to bed. G'night," I said, moving over to my bed and climbing in. A silencing charm and a few minutes later, I was fast asleep.

**September 2, 1997**

Tracey was apparently in a speculative mood the next morning.

"I think that the two new professors are a couple," she said as she piled sausages onto her plate.

"Mmppff?" What? My mouth was full of pancake.

"They're sitting rather close to each other, don't you think?"

Well, maybe they **were** sitting a bit closer to each other than normal people would.

"So? Doesn't mean a thing," I responded once I swallowed.

"Then neither does your little snog session with Potter," she replied, rolling her eyes.

I probably should believe her. She is the people person of the group, after all.

"So, who'd they make Head of Slytherin then?" I asked, changing the subject.

"That would be me, Miss Greengrass," said a voice behind me.

I turned and saw my favorite Professor, Sinestra, with a stack of parchment.

"Schedules," she said, handing me mine.

Hmmm, today would be interesting. Defense against the Dark Arts **and** Potions, both with the Gryffindors. What luck. Something caught the corner of my eye, and I looked over to see Potter smirking at me and pointing to his schedule. Wonderful.

Then, of course, my sister saw him.

"Potter's staring at you, you know," she said after she marched up to me. She acted like she was royalty, and I think she expected to inherit the title of Queen of the House after I left. Sorry sis, it doesn't work that way, and you act much too like a pampered princess to do anything. _Entitlement_. Blegh.

"Is he?" I asked, not particularly fazed.

"Yes, he is."

"And this needs to be brought to my attention why?"

"Because he's Harry bloody Potter, that's why! He's not allowed to look at you like that."

"Oh, really? Two things. Potter is a male, and so, like almost every other male, he likes to stare at females. Also, if it were a problem, it would be taken care of. It isn't, so don't bother."

She had a lot to learn, especially if she wanted to be in a position of power in the House. Picking your battles was important, especially if they weren't actually battles, or even problems at all. Not that she knew something was going on with me and Potter.

Astoria's eyes narrowed.

"And why, exactly, is it not a problem?" There were the hands on the hips. You'd think she was my mother.

"Because I don't particularly care whether or not anyone stares at me. Let them, it's not like they'll get anything out of it. Also, think about who you're trying to order you around. I am your older sister and I control most of the House. I can make your life living hell if I wanted to, Astoria. Watch it."

We'd never been particularly close.

"And then mother and father will have your head." She looked smug. She was the perfect daughter, according to my parents. And who was it that was caught in broom closets with different boys every week? Who was it that got only four OW.L.s? Not me.

"I don't care what they do. They're sentencing me to life in hell with fucking Malfoy. They can't do any worse to me."

"And what's so bad about Draco?" Oh, right. She'd always had a crush on the ponce. "He's so dreamy."

"Then go ahead and marry him then. We'll both be happy."

Apparently she had no response to that, for she stormed back over to her seat at the other end of the table. I sighed and returned to my food, a bit of a smile playing on my lips. Why hadn't I asked my parents why Astoria couldn't marry Malfoy? Save the world a whole lot of trouble, that would. I had an owl to send.

Defense against the Dark Arts started out normally enough. By "normally enough," I mean that it was normal until Professor Reynolds walked in ten minutes late. He was wearing a muggle t-shirt that read "Revolution is my Name" and shorts.

"Sorry about that, I had some business to take care of," he announced. Was that an American accent? "Now, a quick introduction before I begin today's lesson. As you can probably tell from my accent, I am American. I studied at the American Magical Institute and joined their auror corps after I graduated. I am 26 years old and that's enough about me.

"Now, if there is anything I want you to get out of this course, it is these two things. One: use any means necessary to defeat your opponents. Magical or muggle, "dark" or not, if your life is endangered, use whatever you can. If you die because you were too proud or clung to false beliefs, then that is your own fault. Two: fitness. Fitness, fitness, fitness. Being fit can vastly expand your magical reserves, as well as increase your ability to avoid spells and escape life threatening situations.

"This class is about teaching you how to survive the fights that many of you will find yourselves in. I want to prepare you for what is out there, and that means teaching you more than just one way of fighting. Today will be a demonstration day. Starting with this. This, for those of you who do not know what it is, is a gun. A Desert Eagle to be precise. Now, who can tell me the advantages of a gun? Yes, Mr…"

"Potter, sir. A bullet is much faster than any spell, and most witches or wizards do not know what a gun is, so they will not conjure a physical shield. Bullets are also almost impossible to dodge," said Potter.

Many of my fellow Slytherins snorted, and Professor Reynolds noticed this immediately and pointed at one of them.

"You had something to say, Mr…"

"Nott. There is no way that the idiotic muggles could possibly have created something better than magic," he said.

"You would be surprised, and this viewpoint is another thing I will try to pound out of you. Muggles are by no means inferior to wizards. If anything, it is the other way around. If we were to go to war with the muggles right at this moment, the muggles would win hands down. First off, there are around six billion muggles in the world, and only about four or five million wizards. They would win with just sticks and stones because of their sheer numbers. Second, they have perfected killing into a science. This gun, as I will demonstrate, is extremely powerful and it's not the most dangerous gun out there. They also have these things called nuclear bombs that are powerful enough to level whole cities. The main reason that we have the secrecy laws is not for the protection of the muggles, as people like Dumbledore claim, but for the protection of wizards."

He conjured a wooden dummy and put his wand away.

"Now, first I am going to use a piercing curse on the target so that you can get a comparison. Who wants to count to three for me? Yes, Mr…"

"Longbottom."

"Alright, Mr. Longbottom. Whenever you're ready."

"One… two…three."

Once Longbottom reached three, Professor Reynolds drew his wand faster than I had ever seen anyone draw one. He cast a silent _diffindo_ at the target and we watched as the spell cut a neat hole in the dummy's head.

"Now, I am going to do the same thing with a gun," he said, repairing the target. "On your go, Mr. Longbottom."

"One…two…three."

Only a second later a bullet smashed its way through the dummy's head, much faster than the spell.

"You see what I mean?" asked Professor Reynolds after he put away the gun. "Much faster, just as effective and, perhaps best of all, does not use up any energy at all. Now, I realize that most of you will not be willing or able to use muggle technology, so my main job is to teach you how to duel. I showed you the gun to let you know what's out there, but most of what I will teach you is magical.

"Now, here is how this class will work. I will not take or give points. Instead, punishments will be a bit more… personal. I will not tolerate intolerance of any kind and any such behavior will result in detention. With me. And it will not be pleasant. After today, we will meet on the seventh floor at the statue of Barnabas the Barmy. Mondays will be fitness days, Wednesdays will be theory days and Fridays will be dueling days.

"Now, I believe that a demonstration duel is in order. This is where I expect you to be at the end of the year. Now then Mr. Potter, I was told that you are the best in your year in this class, so how about we give it a go?"

Potter shrugged and stood up, ignoring the death glare he was receiving from Granger. He walked confidently up to the area that Professor Reynolds had cleared for the duel while Professor Reynolds cast a protective dome around it. When he was done, he turned and faced Potter.

"Now then. No unforgivables and no intentionally lethal spells, is that alright Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"Sure," replied Potter.

"Oh, and no guns," added Professor Reynolds with a smirk. He removed his pistol and put it in a box on his desk.

Potter sighed and grinned ruefully while doing the same with his. Several shocked gasps were heard, especially from the Gryffindors and I smiled slightly. Obviously they didn't know their Golden Boy as well as they thought they did.

"Now, Longbottom, on your go," said the Professor, settling into a dueling stance I had never seen. Potter got into a classic offensive stance as Longbottom counted down.

"One…two…three."

Immediately, Potter cast a flurry of hexes at the Professor who dodged them with ease. Aha, an avoidance stance. Most duelers in Britain did not use them. Professor Reynolds continued dodging Potter's spells, shielding occasionally, but only out of necessity. He was judging his opponent before he made a move. Suddenly, a bright light erupted out of Potter's wand and his famous stag patronus charged the professor. I could see he was surprised and he got hit by Potter's follow-up to his left arm, a bone breaker if the resulting snap was any indication.

I could see that Potter believed he had won, but he continued casting at the Professor who was wincing slightly. Instead of dodging, Professor Reynolds flicked his wand and a silver shield sprang into existence, reflecting the spells back to Potter. Eyes wide, Potter dove to the side, obviously not expecting that.

"Well done," said the Professor as his stance shifted into a truly offensive stance. With a flick of his wand, spells began screaming towards Potter who was put fully on the defensive. He relied extensively on shields, but was forced to switch shields every few seconds as Professor Reynolds would switch spell classes. However, several spells got through and Potter was again forced to dive to the side.

Deciding to try to return to the offensive, Potter conjured several rocks the size of his fist and sent them careening towards his opponent. The Professor easily transfigured them into ravens and sent them back at Potter who conjured a rock wall that the birds smashed into. As soon as he had transfigured the rocks, Professor Reynolds began muttering under his breath and fire streamed out of his wand towards Potter.

Potter realized that he was trapped and stayed behind the rock wall, fire streaming around it. The Professor released his wand, which remained floating in midair and shooting fire, and ran silently towards the rock wall. Through the fire. Neat trick. With a huge jump, he landed on top of the wall and dropped down right next to an unsuspecting Potter. A quick jab to the head later, Potter was unconscious.

The Professor waved his hand and his wand stopped shooting fire and floated towards him. Potter's rock wall disappeared a second later and Professor Reynolds revived Potter after bandaging his arm.

"Excellent duel, Mr. Potter," he said, "although I do not believe you were using your true power. No matter. If I forgot to mention it, rewards will come in the form of private training with me. And for that duel, Mr. Potter, I have a free evening tomorrow. Also, stay after class, I have something to discuss with you. You may sit down now."

Potter returned to his seat and the Professor continued.

"Now, before you leave, you will write down what you think your skill level is compared to this duel and, most importantly, why. This will tell me what you need to work on and which of you have big heads. And you will be writing with these."

With a flick of his wand, muggle notebooks and pens appeared on everyone's desk.

"Each of your notebooks are connected to my master notebook, meaning you do not have to turn them in. Your work does not automatically appear in mine. To submit your work, you will have to tap the bottom corner of each page you worked on with your wand. Begin. And yes, for those of you unaccustomed to them, you do have to use the pens."

With a grin I grabbed the pen and quickly scribbled down my opinion on my abilities. I considered myself to be almost at Potter's skill level in that duel, although I knew he had not used his full potential. I had a sneaking suspicion that the Professor didn't either. I needed to work on my shields most of all.

I exited the class with Sophia, Blaise and Tracey a few minutes later thoroughly pleased with the quality of this teacher. This would easily be our best year in this class, although I did enjoy Professor Lupin's class in third year.

"Hey, what happened to asking Potter about his little problem?" asked Sophia as we headed down to our dorm to grab our potions supplies.

"I'll ask him after potions," I responded, rolling my eyes. "He's being held after class, remember?"

We arrived at the Potions classroom with plenty of time to spare, but surprisingly the class was still almost full. I guess people wanted to find out what the new professor was like. We sat down in our usual seats towards the front. It was good to see that everyone remembered who sat here.

Right when class was supposed to start, Professor Sullivan walked in. We got a better look at her than we had the previous night or this morning, and I was quite impressed. She was extremely beautiful, but had a look in her eyes that said she would not tolerate any shit. Like Professor Reynolds, she wore a muggle outfit, a simple t-shirt and jeans. She would probably be a distraction for most of the males in the class. Glancing around, I saw many of them trying to hide their stares. Weasley wasn't even trying to hide his, staring slack jawed as the Professor made her way to the front of the class.

"Good morning and welcome to N.E.W.T potions," she said after she reached her desk. "I am Professor Sullivan, as you hopefully know by now. I think that a short introduction would be helpful. I am 27 years old and was trained at the American Magical Institute. Out of school, I joined the American version of your aurors. Any questions? Yes, Mr…"

""Weasley" said Weasley, standing up. "Why are you wearing muggle clothes?"

"Muggle? Oh, we call them mundanes back in America. And I am wearing this outfit because I like it, it's functional and it's what everyone wears in America. Frankly, I advise all of you to do the same, at least in this class. Robes are much more likely to get caught on fire, knock things over and be a general nuisance in a potions classroom. Any more questions?

"Alright then. Today we will be making the potion of regrowth. It is an extremely hard potion; I am just having you make it so I can judge your skill level. Yes, Miss…"

"Granger. This potion isn't in our books," said Granger, with a hint of panic in her voice.

"Ah, yes. This potion would not be in your books, Ms. Granger, because it is an American potion, used by the Indian tribes of the Pacific Northwest to help the forest grow. I find that the textbooks available here in Britain are a bit, excuse my French, shitty. It is for this reason that I didn't assign a book for this class, so I am wondering, Ms. Granger, why you think I did. And the point you brought up is another reason I want you to make this potion. I want you to know how to make a potion with your own skills, not those of someone who happened to write a book.

"Now, for this potion, I want you to work alone. Most of the time, you will be working in pairs that I will assign after I find out your skill level. Ingredients are in the supply cabinet and instructions are on the board. Begin."

There was an immediate rush for the supply cabinet. Idiots. They didn't even know what they needed yet. It was only after the crowd around the cabinet had died down that my friends and I got our ingredients. The potion did turn out to be rather hard, much harder than anything Snape would have assigned. Not that my friends and I couldn't handle it.

Periodically, I would look over and check out how Potter seemed to be doing. Without Snape breathing down the back of his neck and Granger yelling at him for one reason or other, he seemed to be doing… extremely well?

"Excellent, Mr. Potter," said the Professor as she passed by his cauldron. "Stay after class."

I groaned. What was with Professors asking him to stay after class today? The faster I was able to ask him whether he was a vampire or not, the faster I would be able to get Sophia off of my back.

Class ended and from the grumbles I was hearing, especially from Granger's direction, most of the class had not finished the potion. I caught Potter smirking as he handed in his potion. Seems like he enjoyed Granger's failure more than I did.

I lounged outside of the potions classroom, waiting for Potter to leave. My friends had deserted me in favor of lunch, leaving me all on my lonesome.

Nah, I made them. I didn't want them eavesdropping on this conversation.

My head snapped up as Potter left the classroom, door shutting silently behind him. He walked past me, seemingly ignoring me, even though I knew he knew I was there. I pushed off the wall and fell into step beside him, leaving the silence for a few minutes.

"I want to talk to you," I said finally, glancing over at his face.

"Yeah?"

"Not here. Somewhere private."

"And where would you suggest, my lady?" There was his crooked grin. Eight words. Must be some kind of record.

"I know there's an unused classroom around here somewhere," I said as we turned a corner. "Aha."

We entered the classroom, each putting our own security charms on it before we began speaking.

"So," I started, "Sophia has this… theory about you."

"And what is this theory?"

"Well," I took a deep breath. "She thinks you're a vampire. I told her it was ridi- Why are you laughing?"

"What if I was?" he asked.

I think I gaped openly. He'd practically admitted to being one, because if he wasn't, I'm sure he would have started stuttering.

"Nothing. Just curious," I said, quickly regaining control of my face.

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. I could jump him right now. And then he spoke again.

"No, I'm not. Well, not completely."

**A/N**: Well, there it is. Part of the explanation. On the subject of duels, I don't like cataloguing every single spell that everyone uses, so I may identify one or two, but for the most part, only those that hit their targets. Besides, good duelers never shout their spells, so how would Daphne know what they're casting?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I decided to expand the story slightly by including different viewpoints every so often. I find it to be a better way to relate events that Daphne wasn't around for than flashbacks.

Also, my computer bluescreened over Thanksgiving and because of the holidays and finals I didn't get a chance to upload this until it was fixed. This could be easily avoided by someone buying me a new one… ;P

"No I'm not. Well, not completely."

I was shocked. Potter seemed to be gifted at that. However, it wasn't because he was part vampire. No, it was because he was giving up this information so easily. Everyone in Slytherin would tell you that that would ruin your life, if not kill you. This easy trust would need to change if my plan was to work. You'd think he was a Hufflepuff.

"Half then?" I asked.

"Yeah. My mom was turned a few days before my parents got married, apparently. Obviously, my dad didn't care, and lo and behold, here I am. The reason I haven't been… well, I have been, but the reason I haven't acted like I was part vampire was some Potter family magic that bound my vampire inheritance until I turned 17."

"A few questions then. I'm sure that the sun has some effect on you, so how is it that you can still walk in it?"

"Potter family magic again. It's a runic tattoo that absorbs any sunlight hitting my body and is recharged every time I drink blood. Apparently we have a habit of marrying vampires, if we aren't vampires ourselves, so it became necessary."

I grinned as he let slip an even more vital piece of information. Every family has an area of magic that they have an aptitude for. The families learn these magics extremely quickly and each has their own spells for that particular magic. My family's magic, for example, is fire magic. I love how it completely contradicts our name. Should be Nograss.

The Potter family magic seemed to be blood magic. Interesting. That went against everything everybody believed about the Potters. They were supposed to be the paragon of "Light" families. Apparently not, as blood magic is considered one of the four darkest magics, along with soul magic, demonic magic and necromancy.

"The Potter family magic is blood magic then?"

Potter whitened immediately as he realized that he had let that slip.

"You're lucky I don't plan on letting you go," I said. He really was. "Next question. This," I gestured between us, "Isn't just because of your allure, is it?"

He must have sensed danger in my voice, as he whitened a bit more. However, when he responded, his voice was laced with anger.

"Never. I have complete control over it. Using it goes completely against my principles. I was actually physically sick the first few days before I learned to control it because girls kept throwing themselves at me."

"Good. I probably would have killed you if it was."

He flinched slightly at the warning. Good.

"Now that that's out of the way, come here Potter."

His lips met mine in a scorching kiss and I knew I would be late to lunch.

"So, is he?" Sophia asked as we headed down to the Common Room after dinner.

I sighed. Sophia would probably tease me mercilessly for this one.

"Kind of. He's half," I said in response.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, doing a little victory dance.

"Did he tell you how he can walk in the sun and everything?" asked Blaise, looking for blackmail of some sort. Well, I had it. Not that I was going to give it away, at least yet.

"Yes, he did, and no, I'm not going to tell you. Not yet, anyways."

"Ooooooh, is it bad? Did it require the sacrifice of seven virgins and their fathers?" Tracey said, rather excitably.

"You're turning into Lovegood, just like Sophia. Must be an epidemic of some sort."

"Well, she was right. That means I must be too, right?"

"Sorry, no."

The rest of the walk was spent with them asking me increasingly ridiculous questions about how Potter was able to walk in the sun. I was actually relieved when we walked into the Common Room to see only first years and a fifth year prefect there. That meant it was time for the introductory meeting.

The prefect walked over to Blaise, who generally acted as the public face of our little group. He whispered something in Blaise's ear, and Blaise nodded. The prefect returned to his spot by the fireplace as we conjured chairs for ourselves and sat down facing the first years.

The rules were the standard fare: problems would remain in the dungeons as we had to pretend to be united in front of the other Houses. Problems with other Houses would be solved by the four of us, the prefects or Professor Sinestra. We didn't want the younger years to follow Malfoy's example, after all. And then I added two.

"Two new ones for this year," I said, interrupting Blaise as he was about to wrap up the meeting. "First, more of a suggestion really, but make friends with the other Houses. It's not nearly as bad as Blaise here makes it sound, especially for you firsties. Of course there will be problems, but again, tell us and we will deal with it. Second, and this is not optional, but with Snape gone and Malfoy having lost his power, I think it's appropriate. There will be no discrimination of any kind in the House and in your treatment of the other Houses. Anyone caught doing this to anyone will be severely punished."

"Alright then," said Blaise, shooting me a glare for interrupting him, "If you have problems, concerns, need homework help or just someone to talk to, ourselves, the prefects and Professor Sinestra are always available. Any questions?"

One small boy in the front raised his hand

"Yes?" asked Blaise.

"Someone told us that we should beat up the Gryffindors," he said timidly.

"And who was this," I said, almost growling.

The boy jumped, sensing the danger in my voice and said, "I-I t-think his n-name was Nott."

"Nott, huh? We will deal with him. Do not listen to what he or the idiot known as Draco Malfoy say. Their goals are detrimental to the House and your lives in and after school."

We dismissed the first years and the prefect began heading out of the Common Room to let the other years know that the meeting was over. Before he reached the door, however, Blaise called the prefect over. "Tell the other years what Daphne said," he said. "There will be **no** discrimination. Any offenders will deal with her personally."

The prefect nodded and turned back to leave but was interrupted again, this time by my voice.

"If you see Nott, do tell him that I would speak with him," I said sweetly. It was the voice I used right before something particularly nasty happened.

The prefect flinched and left the room, and I cackled mentally. Oh yeah, I still had it.

**September 3, 1997**

Malfoy finally made an appearance in the Common Room, right as we returned from breakfast. He had probably tried to do what he did in previous years and order somebody around, and they had not taken too kindly to it. That or he was gifted at beating himself up. Maybe he ran into Potter on his way back from the Hospital Wing. In any case, he had several bruises on his face, his hair was rather messed up and his lip was split. His bodyguards were in one of the corners of the room, in similar conditions.

"Oh, Draco," I sing-songed sweetly, "Might I know who did this to you? I'd like to give them a medal."

"Fuck you, Greengrass," he spat, rather weakly.

"Oh, I'm sure you would love to," I said as my eyes narrowed. "Unfortunately, you will never get the chance. And if you try **that** again, Potter will be the least of your worries."

He shrank back a bit then grabbed his wand from where it had been flung near the fireplace and released his bodyguards. They lumbered out of the Common Room after their leader and my friends and I headed up and grabbed our books for Ancient Runes. How I loved that class.

Of course, I didn't know that Potter would be taking the course this year. At first I wondered how he had gotten into the class without having taken the O.W.L. Then I realized that if he could properly tattoo runic seals onto his own body that protected it from the sun, he probably did not need to take this class at all.

As much as I welcomed the changes in Potter, not just as a lover, but as an academic rival, it was quite infuriating how well he was doing. It should have been impossible for someone to improve this drastically over the course of one summer. I mean, he'd always been powerful and his inheritance increased this, as well as giving him access to a completely different type of magic. He had proven to be intelligent on occasion, and I held the belief that he had been holding himself back for the sake of his ex-best friends.

Now, however, he was a completely different beast. Why couldn't I improve like that?

Because I wasn't the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, that's why. Being jealous would get me nowhere. Besides, he would need all of that strength and intelligence to fight Voldemort, and I don't envy him there. Although, if things continue the way they are, I'll be involved in the struggle as much as he was.

Now **that** would be a problem. This situation with Malfoy would have to be resolved before I did, at least openly. My parents would have a fit if they found out I was going against their will anyways, and to this extent… let's just say my father could be a bit heavy handed in his punishments.

Anyways, Potter soon demonstrated his proficiency in the class by doing several things that none of the rest of us knew how to do, and even Professor Sinestra, who is notoriously hard to please, looked happy. He was going to teach me everything he knew, if he knew what was good for him.

We had a free period after Runes, which was spent talking about how to punish Nott. I was all for siccing Potter on him, but Blaise held the belief that it needed to be something a bit more direct, something that Nott knew led back to us. I wasn't really sure what his reasoning was. Wasn't Slytherin about being sneaky and cunning?

"He might not attack the Gryffindors himself if Potter takes care of him, but he will try to get others to, like he did with the first years. If we stop him, he'll know that we know what he's doing and he'll quit. Besides, someone," he said, directing this at me, "someone told the first years that we'd take care of Nott. It needs to be us so that they know who's in charge and that we don't make idle threats."

This time I understood, and as Tracey agreed with him, we plotted in our room until it was time to head up to the Great Hall for lunch.

Midway through lunch, Dumbledore walked over to where Potter sat laughing with Longbottom, Thomas and Finnegan. Potter immediately quieted and became serious as he saw the Headmaster approaching, a dangerous glint in his eyes. The whole Hall had stopped to watch Dumbledore's progress, so their conversation carried.

"How may I help you, Headmaster?" Potter asked neutrally once the Headmaster stopped walking.

"I would ask you to come to my office after lunch, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore, much colder than I had ever heard him address Potter.

"I am sorry Headmaster, but I have class after lunch. How about after dinner?"

"Class can wait, Mr. Potter. This is extremely important."

"If it is about what I think it is, then you have already waited for a day and a half. A few more hours will not hurt, Headmaster."

"That is not acceptable, Mr. Potter."

"I think that you'll find it **is** acceptable, Headmaster, if you remember our little discussion over the summer."

"Mr. Potter."

"Headmaster."

"Fine. I will expect you in my office immediately after dinner," said Dumbledore angrily, whirling and heading back to his seat.

Potter grinned victoriously and began talking animatedly with Longbottom as the Hall gradually filled with noise once more. That was an extremely interesting conversation. Not only were Potter and Dumbledore at odds, which was big in and of itself, he could also control the Headmaster, at least to a certain extent. He must have some sort of dirt on the Headmaster. That was the only reason I could see for Potter to be able to do that, other than being the Heir to one of the Founders.

Which, knowing Potter, was probably true as well.

**Harry's POV**

Fucking Dumbledore. Why the ferret had not been expelled was beyond me. It probably had something to do with his ridiculous policy of trying to redeem everyone. There is no redeeming someone like Malfoy. The ferret was already a Death Eater, something I'm sure Fumblemore knew. What Voldemort requires recruits to do to become a Death Eater…I won't go into details, but it is extremely sick, twisted and evil, and if you can do that, then there is no chance of redemption.

With one exception. I will never like the man, but I have seen his memories and Snape is genuinely on the so-called "Light Side." Unfortunately, this also means he is stuck in Dumbledore's pocket. Such a waste. The man is extremely intelligent, powerful and cunning. The epitome of Slytherin, unlike the ferret. The ferret, I know, is a Death Eater through and through. And he tried to rape a wonderful young woman. If there was anyone else as Headmaster, Malfoy probably would have been expelled before he could get medical treatment. Maybe I should talk to Ol' Mickey-G. She could probably force Dumbledore to expel Malfoy. Maybe she could even do it herself! Wouldn't that be a nasty surprise for the Headmaster?

Speaking of whom, he still hasn't shown up yet. I've been sitting in his office for almost half an hour now. I had a bit of a conversation with the Sorting Hat, in which he said that I would have been great in Slytherin, as per usual. Then I agreed with him, and he was apparently stunned into silence.

The other companion that I usually have as I await the Headmaster is gone at the moment. Fawkes had always taken a liking to me, although, I wonder if actually being half-vampire has affected this at all. Psh. He's a phoenix, he would have known. I've always wondered why he is Dumbledore's familiar. Dumbledore certainly has not been noble in his actions since the rise of Voldemort, if not since he defeated Grindlewald.

I was just about to start screwing around with the myriad of instruments that Dumbledore had lying around when he appeared through the doorway.

"Ah, good. I see you are already here," he said as he sat down behind his desk.

"Obviously. Get to the point, old man," I said, none too kindly.

"You said yourself that you knew what this was about."

"Malfoy."

"Yes. Why did you have to shoot him? He could have been saved! And now, because of your actions, he will go down a dark path looking for revenge."

"Saved? He's a fucking marked Death Eater who was trying to rape a fellow student! Or did I not make that clear with the note that I stuck to his head? Why hasn't he been expelled?"

"Because if I could make him see the error of his ways-"

"Have you gone senile? **Rape**, old man! You are condoning the rape of young women by not expelling him. He needs to be punished for his actions."

"No. If I can prevent him from hurting others-"

"You're missing the point. He needs to be punished for what he has done and not be allowed the chance to do it again. As I said at lunch, you do remember the conversation we had over the summer?"

Dumbledore sighed and put on his 'disappointed grandfather' face.

"What has made you hate me so much?" he lamented.

"I dunno," I replied sarcastically, "Maybe it is the fact that you knew about Quirrel in first year and did nothing. And you knew where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was. How could you not? All you had to do was talk to Myrtle, or ask Fawkes about it. No, you definitely knew where it was. Don't even get me started on third year. It's your fucking fault that my Godfather was imprisoned. You allowed him to be sent to Azkaban without a trial, even though you knew Pettigrew was the secret keeper. You were the one who performed the Fidelius after all.

"Fourth year, you were just being senile, as usual. One of your oldest friends, and you didn't notice that it was an imposter? Bullshit. Basically, you are at fault for all the bad things that have happened over my years here. If it was just me that these things happened to, I would be fine with that. Better me than someone else. However, this is Hogwarts, meaning that you were endangering the future of wizarding Britain. And that's not even the worst part.

"First, you stuck me in a hell hole, claiming that there were blood wards protecting me. Bullshit. First off, my parents will specifically states that I was to go basically anywhere **but **the Dursleys. Second, if there were blood wards, they would have been nullified the first time the Dursleys beat me. When I was four. But there were no blood wards. You know why? Because my mother was adopted. But you knew that, didn't you?

"And then you withheld the prophecy from me and didn't give me training. You knew all along that I was the so-called 'Chosen One' and you did nothing to prepare me for the fight. For what? To give me a chance at a childhood? I lost my childhood the moment you placed me with the Dursleys.

"But, you know the worst part? The worst part is that you paid three people who hero worship you to become my friends. 'Packed full of muggles?' 'What is the platform?' If Mrs. Weasley had truly forgotten what the platform was, then the world would have ended. She went to Hogwarts and was sending off her sixth kid to the same school. And so you paid Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley to become my friends, and Molly Weasley to "mother" me. Out of my own vault, no less. You have a lot to answer for."

"That is a lot of guesswork, Mr. Potter."

"You want to swear on your magic that it's false?"

"Now, now, let's not be extreme, Mr. Potter."

"Exactly. Now, I believe this conversation is over," I said, standing up to leave.

"Wait, Mr. Potter. We still have to discuss your punishment for shooting another student."

This made me more furious than I could remember being in a while.

"So, you won't punish Malfoy for trying to rape someone, but you will punish me for stopping him? You're a sick bastard, you know that?"

"Violence is not tolerated, Mr. Potter."

"But rape is? Do you **want** me to go to the Ministry with a list of the crimes you've committed?"

"Mr. Potter, that is uncalled for."

"Ok, you know what? If Malfoy is expelled, I will attend one detention with Professor Reynolds. One."

"I do not think that students get to choose their own punishment. Malfoy will not be expelled, you will attend a month of detentions with Filch and you will hand over your gun."

"No, no and no. I'm not going to go over my objections to the first two again. And what makes my gun any different from my wand? I can do the same things with a wand. The gun is just more efficient. I'm done here, Dumbledore."

"Mr. Potter."

I ignored him, stood up and made to march out of the office. However, right before I reached the door, Fawkes flamed in and landed on my shoulder.

_Hey Fawkes,_ I thought, directing my thoughts towards the phoenix as I stroked his feathers. _You and me are going to have a talk later, alright_?

He trilled and then said, _yes, halfling_, and flew over to his perch as I left the room.

**September 4, 1997. Daphne's PoV.**

The next time I saw Potter was right before DADA the next day. Everyone was crowded around the statue of Barnabas the Barmy, allowing Potter and Longbottom too easily sneak up to me and my friends without being noticed.

"Meet us back here after dinner. Bring the others," Potter whispered to me as he passed.

Honestly, I racked my brain trying to find a discreet way to respond. Seriously. But I couldn't find one.

So I pinched his bum instead.

I shot him a wide smile to which he responded with a look that was half scandalized and half horny. He continued walking, however, rubbing his bum the whole time. Mission accomplished.

Potter and Longbottom met us back by the statue that night, about half an hour after dinner. Potter looked extremely pleased with himself, and Longbottom had a smirk on his face that was no better. Like they needed an ego boost.

"You're late," commented Tracey, glaring at Potter.

"Fashionably so, I hope?" Potter asked, grinning.

"That only applies to parties mister," I responded.

"And who says this isn't?"

"The fact that there are only six of us here," said Sophia.

"Seriously, Potter, if that's your idea of a party, you're more hopeless than I thought," I snickered.

Potter ignored our comments and paced in front of the wall, much like Professor Reynolds had earlier in the day. A door was revealed, a plain, wooden door. Opening it, Potter led us into a cozy, well lit room. A fireplace stood at the end across from the door, while three large couches ringed around a large coffee table.

"Wow," I said, "Didn't know you were much of an interior decorator, Potter."

"Blame the room. I just asked for a place for all of us to talk."

"So," Blaise said after we sat down, "Why are we here instead of doing something productive?"

The grin quickly fell off of Potter's face, and he leaned forward, completely serious.

"I had an… interesting discussion with Dumbledore yesterday. Did you know that he'd rather punish me for stopping Malfoy than expel the ferret?"

"No, I couldn't tell," I said, rolling my eyes. "Did you really expect any different?"

"Not really," said Potter. "And the fact that I expected that makes it even worse. It's time, men, that Hogwarts had a new Headmaster."

"Men?" Tracey sounded indignant. "There's as many of you as there are of us."

"Actually, seeing the way that Potter acts, there's only two men in the room," said Sophia.

"Right, right. We have majority here."

"Can I continue please?" asked Potter, glaring playfully at the pair.

The two glared right back, but remained silent.

"Thank you. As I was saying, people, Hogwarts needs a new Headmaster. I don't want to inflict Dumbledork on any future generations."

"You make him sound like a disease," commented Longbottom.

"Oh, he is, he is. Now how to get rid of him?"

Tadaaaaaaa! Hope you enjoyed it. Review if it pleases ye. If not, review anyways.


End file.
